


I've got Issues

by IKEAwhatyoudidthere



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 16:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18347771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKEAwhatyoudidthere/pseuds/IKEAwhatyoudidthere
Summary: The prophecy has been delivered: there will be one born who will have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord Voldemort.Voldemort's furious search for the child is successful; and a father makes the greatest sacrifice to protect his son.Lily and Harry are now in hiding and must flee Wizarding Britain to escape Death Eater reprisals and most likely Voldemort himself -- who they believe has not been destroyed as most suspect.Under the guidance of Albus Dumbledore, a plan is hatched to protect The-Boy-Who-Lived, but at what cost?  What would a mother do to protect her son; and what would a friend do to keep an oath?





	1. In love and war

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing-Me-A-Rare Volume 3. Much love to my Beta @CourtingInsanity.  
> Song Prompt- Song: Issues, Artist: Julia Michaels

Sirius Black had never considered himself one for marriage.  Marriage was for sappy fools like James and Lily, or Frank and Alice–– Merlin love them –– but not for him.  No, Sirius had decided at an early age that he would most likely be dead before he was twenty five. Whether it was to be at the hands of some piece-of-shit Death Eater or from liver failure, he planned on living hard, fast and loving all the witches (and possibly a wizard ~~,~~ just once and just to see what it was like) that willingly crossed his path.

As heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, he had a vault of galleons at his disposal (thanks to the foresight of his Uncle Alphard), and a fuck-load of charm which he used unashamedly and often –– and the good either of them were to him if he was worm food in the ground.

 

“ _My dear Prongs, the new words of House Black that I intend living by are famous even amongst muggles,” Sirius said quite earnestly, his hand on his heart._

_“And what are they, Pads?  ‘Here I am, come and get me’?” James replied with a smile, looking back at him in the robe maker’s mirror._

_“No.  They are_ ‘Live fast, die young and have a good-looking corpse’; _very much more me than that_ ‘ _Toujours Pur’ bullshit, wouldn’t you agree?” Sirius tried his best to look nonchalant as he lounged against the wall, but only James could fully understand and appreciate his contempt and obvious disrespect for the House of Black._

_James chuckled at the comment, earning a mischievous grin from Sirius in return.  As if incited by the brazen disregard of the words, Sirius continued, “Could you imagine the look on the old toad’s face if I told her, as heir apparent, that I will officially change our noble house words?  That look my friend, would top my highlight reel, and I do have a significant number of highlights on that particular reel,” he added with a wink._

_“Please let me be there when you tell old trout face.  Promise me, Pads.” Turning to admire the robes in the mirror, he slipped another galleon into the robemakers pale hand as he pushed his glasses further up his nose.  It had been a risk to come by the robe shop given the current situation, and despite Sirius’ relaxed demeanour, James knew he was feeling every bit as antsy as he was._

_Since the ill-fated ‘great escape’ on Sirius’s bike the year before against the Death Eaters, they were both wary of being seen in wizarding areas, paranoid of further ambushes especially since their sides in the war were now well known._

_“You look very fine there, Prongs,” Sirius said seriously, noting that the unease was not just from their venture into Diagon Alley. “Lily will be impressed.  It’s only because I don’t want to upstage you and steal your fair maiden away, that I am reluctantly leaving all this—” he gestured to his favourite black jeans, his white V-neck t-shirt and his most adored black leather jacket as if they were the finest robes seen since the days of Merlin “— and deferring to those hideous robes you chose for me.  But, of course, as the best man and most important wedding guest, I accept and respect your choice.”  He punctuated the statement by corking James’s arm._

_“Now, pay the man and let’s get the fuck out of here.  I’m starving and in need of a decent whisky.  Plus, technically, it is your ‘stag night’, Prongs, so I also have a little surprise for you,” he said waggling his eyebrows roguishly and laughing as James paled._

_The surprise had been a muggle pub crawl with his fellow Marauders in tow, drinking and celebrating as lads when faced with the end of singledom.  Sirius regarded the strict instructions he’d received from Lily about keeping James standing and conscious and,_ “In no way, shape or form is another ‘woman’ to touch him.  None.” _as lore.  Truth be told, he was in awe of the witch and didn’t doubt for a second that she would follow through on turning his balls black and shrunken to the size of peas._

_James had been returned by Remus to Godric’s Hollow, conscious and standing, and without a single female hand laid against him all night.  Sirius chuckled when he thought of the muggle transvestite that had taken a shine to James, flirting outrageously with him and offering all sorts of enticements to ‘just take a walk outside and see the moon’.  James had behaved._

_Sirius hadn’t._

_He found muggle women enchanting in their mundaneness.  He felt powerful when he could woo them with simple parlour tricks, and in return, they wooed him with their mouth or cunt.  They didn’t care that he was the dark and handsome heir to the House of Black, only the conquest they could brag to their friends about, and perhaps snag as their own.  He, who made them come twice with only his talented fingers; he, who looked like Jim Morrison or maybe the brooding David Gilmour…_

_The night that he had celebrated his loved-up best friend’s forthcoming nuptials, Sirius Black silently sought someone to make him forget that the new words of House Black would leave him alone.  The night ended for him, up against an alley wall, with his fingers threaded through the hair of a girl whose name he did not know._

No, Sirius Black had never intended on marrying.  Despite knowing he was one of the most eligible bachelors (albeit a known blood traitor) in wizarding Britain, he also knew his reputation of the devilish bad boy rebel, even at eighteen, preceded him.   While this often had worked in his favour, especially when courting the desires of similarly rebellious young (and that one not so young) witches and a few muggles, commitment was something that he avoided like dragon pox.

Commitment and marriage made him nervous.  Too much of his early life had been spent at the weddings of pureblood families (who were often his relatives on many branches of the same family tree thanks to blood purity inbreeding) to show him that that was not a life that he desired nor aspired to.

His criteria for any possible marriage had been set, rather calculatingly, at an almost impossible ideal.  He would not marry for obligation or money or political strategy; he would not marry his intellectual inferior; he would not marry unless he found a love like James and Lily had; and he would not marry anyone who identified with any branch of the Black family tree.

Sirius, ever practical, knew that love was a weakness, and that it could render him powerless.  It could be used as a weapon against him.  They were at war.

But despite all the reasons he had used to justify not marrying in the past, he’d never counted on marrying someone as he was about to now.

Sirius felt the weight of responsibility crushing down on him.  _It wasn’t supposed to be like this_. Emotions swirled within him, one after another, mixing and turning and tumbling, crashing down on him until it was too much.  Sirius trembled, and then he vomited.  All over the magical petunias.


	2. Where Dwell the Brave at Heart

Minerva McGonagall found him in the garden, ashen faced and smelling of sour bile, stale firewhisky and fear.  Her heart softened as she looked at him; true, he had been a nightmare student only a few years previously, but before her now stood a broken young man.

She reflected on the retching shape before her, pity and sadness shining in her eyes.  Sirius had the capacity for high intelligence and even higher mischief. This mischief at times had bordered on cruelty when he, Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew roamed together –– stubborn and reckless Gryffindors the lot of them, although she long suspected that Black and Potter were the instigators and agitators.  But still, despite his unruliness and penchant for risks, she had a soft spot for the young man before her. 

He had proven his loyalties to friends many times over, and his passions had shown through his brave and often clever actions.  He fought against the oppression of his childhood, turning his back on his fascist family who openly supported the far-right ideology of racial hierarchy and the purity of bloodlines.  He valiantly fought on the side of light, as an Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix, and this unfortunately meant he had seen the untimely and tragic deaths of many of his friends at the hands of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself.

She heard a quiet sob amongst the gagging and gave him a moment before she announced herself.

“How do I look Minnie? Like a dashing groom?” he said, trying on his charm, vanishing his vomit away and muttering ‘scourgify’ to clean himself up.

He popped a muggle breath mint in his mouth. “For my bride.”

“Well, Mister Black, I do believe that given the circumstances, you make a most acceptable groom.”  She smiled kindly as she took his arm and began to walk towards the castle.

“A great muggle Prime Minister once said, ‘ _Out of the depths of sorrow and sacrifice will be born again the glory of mankind_ ’,” she recited, patting his arm.

“These are sad times indeed, Sirius. We are at war, and I don’t believe _he_ is truly gone. But you have two extremely important reasons in there to keep on fighting against this cult of violence.  Two reasons in there to lead, protect and _remember._ When this is all finally done with, however it shall end, we will see that love is the winner, not hate,” Minerva said with the unerring tone of Professor, war chief, and mother who never was.

“Now, smarten yourself up.  It is your turn to step up to the responsibilities of manhood.  It may not be what you thought it would be, or how you thought your life would turn out, but it is what it is, and you have others depending on you now.  My dear boy, you are a lion of Gryffindor…” she began with her well-rehearsed rhetoric.

 _“Where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve, and chivalry, set Gryffindors apart.’_ Yes, I remember the words, Minnie.” Sirius winked. “Thanks for the pep talk.  I’m ready.  I’m ready to go get my Lioness. _”_

And with the face of a man walking to his own execution, Sirius Black walked in to meet his future.


	3. Until Death Breaks our Bonds

His bride awaited him, bathed in blue, watery light beneath the stained-glass window of one Rowena Ravenclaw.  The late autumnal chill of November had set in and the great fireplace in the room roared in a welcoming to him.  Her back was to him, huddled over something in her arms, and her back quivered slightly.  She was crying.

Sirius hated women crying.  It was something that made him feel deeply inadequate and therefore thoroughly useless.   His mother was not the simpering type.  She was a ‘point the wand and aim’ sort of gal, hence why he had no notion how to deal with the tears of the fairer sex.   Truth be told, most of the tears that he ever had to sooth away in the past were caused by him and were not in the least tears of sorrow or pain.  Remus, or even James were the ones with the sympathetic words and comfort, not him.   But they weren’t here.

Glancing at Minerva by his side, he was encouraged by her raised brows that implied, ‘Well, go on.’

Sirius walked over to his bride, tentatively reaching towards her, only to stop and clench his fists before his fingers made contact with her skin.  She stilled at his touch, and her back straightened as if a cord had been pulled upright through her spine.

“Lily.  Love.  It’s time,” he said softly.

Lily Potter turned to face him, her glorious mane of red hair covered by a dark blue hooded cloak.  She pushed the hood from her head revealing intricate braids interwoven with blue forget-me-nots and silver threads.  Her eyes were wet and red rimmed, but she smiled up at him, taking in his wide eyes and uneasiness.  He thought she was beautiful, and his heart swelled.

“I really thought you’d wear the jacket,” she teased through a sniff.

“For you Lils, a three-piece suit, no less,”  he quipped.  

“You look very handsome, Pads, and you’ve even done your hair.  This must be serious.” Her eyes sparkled at him as he acknowledged their little in-joke.

“Pads.  Paaadds,” came a sleepy voice muffled by a podgy thumb stuck firmly in a mouth.  Lily drew open her cloak and uncovered the sleepy bundle of her son.

“Ugh.  He’s getting so heavy.” Lily shifted her weight to accommodate the now wriggling boy.

Sirius reached down and took his Godson from her.

“Hello, Champ. Decided to wake up now, have you?  Making sure I don’t run away?”

“Pads!” squealed the little boy, sleep forgotten and bright eyed.  Sirius looked at Harry’s forehead, red and angry where a lightning bolt shaped scar cut from his hairline to his right eyebrow.    He bent and gently kissed it which solicited a giggle from the toddler.

Harry wriggled to look over Sirius’ shoulder, seeing Minerva and the newly arrived Albus Dumbledore.

“Dadda?  Dadda?  Daddy…” The little boy looked around wildly, his voice trailing off to a confused whimper.

Sirius heard Lily’s voice catch as she answered him.

“No, baby.  No Daddy.” She walked to take him from Sirius, who held the child firmly.  “Daddy’s gone to heaven.  It’s just us now.  You, me and Pads… Ok?”

The child nodded, instantly distracted by the brightly coloured bubbles cascading from the end of Dumbledore’s wand.

“Bubbwool!”  Harry laughed, trying to catch them and went into Minerva’s arms as she lifted him to try and get them.  Sirius wiped away the tears on Lily’s cheeks and took her into a deep embrace.

“Are you sure Lily?  You want to do this?” he whispered into her hair.

“Yes,” she said quietly into his chest.

Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he turned to the headmaster and said, “We’re ready.”

A house-elf was called to entertain the baby Potter, and with a bouquet of yellow daffodils, white heather and white carnations transfigured by Minerva, the ceremony began.

Albus, as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, was more than qualified to officiate the marriage rites, which were less traditional than the one he performed three years earlier for James and Lily Potter.

It was a quiet and intimate ceremony, much like the Christening of Harry months before; witnessed this time only by Minerva.

Dumbledore, on proposing the marriage between Black and Potter had thought it best to keep the arrangement secret.  All present swore on their magic and on the life of Harry Potter that the marriage, lawful and true, would remain unknown to anyone outside of the room where Rowena Ravenclaw shone.  According to the world outside this room, only one Potter survived and was in hiding, Sirius black was missing, and only the finger bearing the house crest of Pettigrew remained amongst the rubble and ash.    As word of Voldemort’s attack on the Potters spread like fiendfyre through the wizarding world, confusion and celebration granted them the cover they needed.

_“You don’t believe he’s dead, do you Albus?”  Minerva had whispered, eyes wide with paranoid caution._

_“Gone, but not dead.  No.”_

_“But… the child… he survives?”_

_“Yes, he really does.  He is alive and healthy according to Poppy, albeit marked by the dark curse.”_

_“Marked?  How can this be?  Albus, how can this be?  How can a child of one year, survive the unspeakable curse of You-Know-Who?”  Minerva asked, her breath coming in rapid, shallow bursts._

_“His name is Tom, Minerva.  Or Voldemort, if we are using his megalomaniac moniker. Call him Voldemort,” he said, waving his hands annoyedly in the air. “Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.”_

_“And Potter, Lily I mean to say… what of her?” Tears slipped down the Professor’s face.  The Potters were like family to her, cubs to the matriarchal lioness._

_“She was not there.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, however you should choose to look at it.  She would not have been able to stop Voldemort; he was incensed by that prophecy, he hunted them with the goal of killing the child and anyone who stood in his way!”  The old wizard growled as he paced the flagstones of his office floor.  He stopped before the fireplace, hands braced on the mantle as he stared into the flames, shaking his head sadly._

_“All anyone knows is the child survived.  That it was a battle to death.  They all believe she was there, they believe they both died.”_

_“But she wasn’t… Albus, how could she leave James there with the baby, alone?  Together, together they may have succeeded, they could have been stronger together.”  She sat in the armchair, dabbing her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief._

_“She was with Sirius, in a muggle hospital.  She was pregnant.  She lost the baby.  James had insisted.”_

_“And you know this how?”_

_“I have spoken to them.  Both.  They are sleeping under a calming draught in the Room of Requirements presently.  Pettigrew was the secret keeper.  He was supposed to be there with James.”_

_“He betrayed them?” Her eyes widened in disbelief.  She thought on it; yes, it was entirely possible that Peter had betrayed them._

_“He was the secret-keeper, and he told Voldemort personally.”_

_“Albus, are you sure?  How could you possibly know that?  Albus!  How do you know this?” Minerva stood and walked towards the elderly man._

_“Voldemort has a traitor in his midst.  A marked Death Eater with a penchant for remorse, now that it suits him.”  He spun, looking directly into her eyes.  She took a step backwards seeing something flash quickly in his eyes before it was gone.  Dumbledore took a deep breath through his nose as he pinched its bridge, eyes now shut lest Minerva see what truly lay behind them._

_“Severus.  It was Severus.”  He shook his head sadly before continuing. “It was he who overheard the prophecy; he told Voldemort about the Potter child_ and _the Longbottom child.  It was the poor fortune of the Potters that he decided to visit them first.  He was here, Minerva, he admitted this to me, he came to me for help.  We were too late, at least for James.”_

 _“I saw with my own eyes, Minerva. He_ begged _Voldemort to spare her life; he has loved Lily since they were children.”_

_“But Albus, he is a skilled Occlumens!”_

_“Ah, but Minerva, I am better.” The wizard reached into his robes where he revealed in his hand an ornate clear glass vial containing swirling silver mist.  “Extra proof, his deceit and his remorse, neatly wrapped together like night and dawn.”_

_He watched as Minerva slumped back into the armchair, an expression of shocked disbelief on her face._

_“Oh, Albus!” she cried, her hands cradling her face. “Where did we fail him? Them?  Why would he do this, why did he join… him...?” she still could not mention the name of Voldemort._

_“Why does the caterpillar turn into the butterfly?  Why does Fawkes burn and live again?  Because it is the nature of the beast to do so.”  He sat opposite her in another arm chair and casually popped a lemon drop in his mouth.  Relaxing in thought, he crossed his long legs beneath his robes waiting patiently for Minerva’s thoughts to catch her up._

_Barely a minute later, Minerva’s head snapped up._

_“How long has he been on our side?  How long, Albus?”_

_“When Lily became pregnant with Harry, he knew then.  He knew that it would be her.  He begged Voldemort not to hurt her, to spare her life.  He came to me, begging, pleading for me to hide them — to hide them all.  The payment, if you like, for keeping them safe, was allegiance.  True allegiance.  To the side of Light,” he said, his face grim._

_“I pity and admire him, Minerva,” he reflected. “To live with the knowledge that his revelation ‘killed’ his one love, to live with that guilt that must surely eat at him in a slow torture… to walk the fine line between the light and the dark…”_

_Minerva was aghast, eyes wide with the implied meaning of his words.  “The fine line between revenge and remedy indeed,” she conceded and dabbed her eyes once more._

 

 

 


	4. Deep in Your Core

Ceremonial words complete, Sirius felt the bond of marriage weave into his own magic like an invisible chord. He turned to face Lily.

He honestly did not know how she was doing this.  How she could look so calm.  _A mother willing to do anything to protect her son_. Her eyes shone with fierce determination and acceptance.  When she gasped, too, at the feeling of their marriage bond working into her own magical core, he wondered briefly if this was how she felt with James.  Was it different marrying for obligation and not love?

They faced each other as husband and wife, as Lord and Lady, and they mirrored each other’s anxiety and stark realisation of what they had done, and what they were about to do.

Sirius stalled, licking his lips nervously.

 _Come on man, just kiss the witch!  You’ve kissed witches before! Get on with it._  The voice in his mind said.

 _But she’s James’ wife!_ The same voice implored.

_No.  She’s my wife.  Mine now._

He bent and kissed Lily, brushing against her lips as gently as whispering a secret.  At the touch of her lips, he felt the bond tighten and pulse, snaking its way down from his solar plexus towards a lower centre of energy.  She felt it too.  He could feel the small intake of her breath; her lips did not break the kiss.

Sirius deepened the kiss, lips firmer and more insistent.  The magic growled inside of him, throbbing now.  Lily answered back in response, her tongue brushing his lips in question and then Sirius could not hold back.  Overwhelmed with the intensity of the past days, the dam that had kept the sadness, guilt and fear hidden away was ripped apart, breaking over him like a tsunami — he was drowning in feelings. Forgetting present company completely, Sirius felt the magic of the bond intertwine with his passion until the need to have more of Lily was an aching need inside of him.

It was the surprised and slightly awkward ‘oooh’ from Minerva that bought them back to reality.

Reluctantly, Sirius pulled back from a breathless Lily, looking at her with surprise.  He most certainly did not expect to feel this way.  Lily, too, questioned him with her eyes.

In true Sirius Black style, he attempted some humour to cover the awkwardness in the room.

“Jealous, Minnie?”  he asked the Professor with a wink.  “I’m afraid, I am now officially off the market.”

“Very funny Mister Black,” she said primly.

“Ah.  Lovely,” said Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling. “May I be the first to offer my congratulations you both.”

He embraced them and placed a delicate kiss on both their cheeks.

Lily and Sirius remained together, their fingers intertwined.  As Minerva approached with her congratulations, Lily broke their fingers apart to embrace the woman who was both mentor and friend.  At the sudden loss of the contact, Sirius flinched.  Is this what James had meant?

_“One day you’ll feel it Pads.  It’s like there’s a part of yourself you never knew existed, and once you feel it there, you can never not have it again.” James explained quietly, staring at Lily across the room as she slept, holding a newborn Harry in the crook of her arm._

_“It’s in deep — in your core; the magic that was yours is not yours entirely anymore.”  He ruffled his hair and pushed his glasses higher onto his nose. “Ugh.  I sound like such a twat.  But it’s true — all of it — I swear to Aphrodite.  That magic, it becomes more than just_ you _.  It’s like… you’ll do anything to keep that feeling, to make sure the burning pull of it never dims…”_

_“Well, it sounds like an addiction to me, Prongs,” Sirius quipped. “I think I’ll stick to muggle whisky and racy women.”_

_“…well, that’s what it feels like to me anyway.” James huffed.  Honestly, talking to Sirius of love was like sticking his wand in his eye; painful and pointless._

Dumbledore spoke next to him, interrupting his thoughts.

“I know how hard this is for you both, Sirius,” he said gently. “To do this, so soon after losing James… well… what I’m saying is that although many marriages in our world are not based on love, I do believe that the love you already have for each other has the opportunity to turn into the love that the poets celebrate.”

“I’m reminded of a muggle song I heard once… how did it go?” He appeared to think, “Ah, yes; just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.  Beautiful, is it not?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, turning to Lily.  “Very fitting.  But you are aware the bird who sang that, died in the movie?”

“Uh, no. I was not.”

Sirius smiled; it wasn’t everyday that someone knew something Albus Dumbledore didn’t.

 

 


	5. Firewhisky & Fruitcake

With the formalities over, and alone with Dumbledore, Sirius and Lily Black were unsure of what was expected of them next.  Of course, to properly seal a marriage bond, sex magic would be needed, and after the kiss they had shared, both were anxiously aware of the procedural steps at least.

What they had been unsure of up until now was the next step in Dumbledore’s plan.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you more than this fine Blishen’s Firewhisky and a slice of fruitcake to celebrate your marriage,” offered Dumbledore, handing out crystal tumblers of amber liquid, “But I can afford you a night of rest in privacy before you begin your new lives.”

Lily mumbled a thanks and took the proffered drink, gulping it down in one hit.  Dumbledore, impressed by her straight hit, filled her glass again.  Then it was Sirius who raised his brows as she downed the dram without a wince.  Breathing in deeply the oak and heather notes of the whisky, he downed his own in one shot.  It was a rare vintage, deep and burning and it filled his body with heat.  It didn’t have the same effect on him as muggle whisky, but he was grateful for the refill as Dumbledore poured him another.

“I have been talking with… associates.” Dumbledore said cautiously. “They are aware of the situation here, and offer refuge for the three of you.”

“We’re grateful for your help, Albus… we don’t have anyone else…” Lily stared at the headmaster, eyes blazing with fortitude despite the tear that slid alone from her eye.  She angrily wiped it away as though it offended her.

“No,” he sadly agreed, “it is a sad matter of things that you have no family to aid you in this most dire time…” He turned to Sirius. “You don’t wish to speak with your mother before you go?”

“No; as far as that old bitch is concerned, I was dead at sixteen.  It’s just us three now.  We are family,”  he said flatly.

“I see.  Well, as a family you will stay, and I will do everything in my power to protect you all.  Now… my associates—” Dumbledore paced with hands clasped behind his back as Sirius refilled the glasses.  It seemed that the moment would require (another) stiff drink judging by the tone in the old man’s voice.  “—are in Australia.  They have been able to offer refuge, to protect you all.”  He let that point sink in and when he heard no arguments, continued.

“May I suggest a name change for you all since one of you is dead and the other presumably on the run from the law?”

“What?  I’m an Auror!  I haven’t done anything… this time,” Sirius spat, outraged. “Surely Moody wouldn’t think that I would kill James?  Kill Lily?”

“I’m not entirely sure what Alastor thinks to be honest,” replied Dumbledore with wide eyes and raised brows, “but the fact remains that everyone thought you were the secret keeper; and Voldemort found the Potters,” he sadly concluded.

“But it was that fucking rat!  He was the keeper!” Sirius raged.

“Yes, _I_ know that, of course Sirius.” Dumbledore tried to placate the young man. “But the others… Remus, Kingsley... all they know is what they see, what they are led to believe.  Death and the fact you are gone, and Pettigrew’s finger remains.  I am truly sorry.”

The accusation hung heavy in the stillness of the room.

“When do we leave?” The men turned their eyes to the one who had lost the most in the attack.  “Is tomorrow too soon?” Lily walked over to Sirius, taking his hand in hers.

“My husband—” she paused “—would be sincerely thankful to you if we could leave at the earliest opportunity.  We don’t want to stay here… in Britain… anymore.”

“Tomorrow can be arranged, my dear.” Dumbledore nodded.

Sirius’ chest tightened, suddenly overwhelmed with the imminent departure and the implications that it meant. “Lily,” Sirius said, quickly trying to dissuade her, “I need to organise our finances. We need money and it will take time.  Dumbledore, how can I get to my vault?  How will we survive?  I will not have my wife and son go hungry or need for anything.  Please, there must be a way.”

“I have considered this at great length, as with all details of this plan Sirius.  I’m asking for your complete trust.”

“Yes, of course you have it, but please, at least share those details with us.  I fucking hate being kept in the dark.” Was begging wrong when it was his family’s lives at stake?

Dumbledore nodded. “Understandably so.  Does the name Patricia Rakepick ring a bell for you Sirius?” he said, his eyes twinkling as he tapped the side of his nose.

Realisation swept across Sirius’ face. He ran a hand through the back of his hair nervously.  “Yes?” He dreaded where the conversation was heading, especially in front of his new wife whom he was keen to impress.  The notion of impressing Lily was comical; she had known him her whole magical life, and although she didn’t know _everything_ about him, he was sure she knew more than he cared to admit.

“Yes, yes of course you do, silly me.” The old man feigned confusion, obviously aware that there were details that Sirius would prefer Lily did not know about a certain curse-breaker currently working for Gringotts Wizarding Bank. “She was a Gryffindor, a few years ahead of you.  I believe her penchant for mischief and trouble was something of a renowned talent at the time.  An outstanding student.  Outstanding,”  he reminisced.  “I believe she ensured her legacy continued once she left the school?  Took some particular Gryffindor cubs under her wing so to speak… taught them many things?”.

“Ah, yes.  She was a great teacher…” said Sirius, uncomfortably studying his empty glass.  Lily glared at him, eyes questioning just what Patricia had taught certain Marauders. “Taught us how to make mischief…amongst other things…” His voice trailed off.

Lily exhaled loudly through her nose. “So,” she started, “what exactly did Patricia teach _my_ husbands — and what the hell has she got to do with them now?”

Sirius stared curiously at her.  Was Lily jealous?

“I cannot answer that of course.” The old man smiled at her as if nothing were insinuated in his previous statement. “Given that as Headmaster, I could not condone mischief, no matter how entertaining or admirable it may have been; but currently, she is in a very opportunistic position to help Sirius retrieve his savings.”

“I see,” she replied, not convinced by Dumbledore’s implicit tone.

“May I suggest that I meet her presently to discuss the matter on your behalf, Sirius?  I suggest you also pen an authorisation note to Griphook for Patricia to act on your stead and provide your key for evidence.”

“But won’t the Goblins think Sirius was responsible for what happened?” asked Lily.  “Surely the news is running rampant right now with misinformation and… bullshit?”

“I’m sure the general wizarding population are exceedingly fitter than they were last week with all the conclusion jumping… however, if you agree Sirius, Patricia could be provided with an extract of your memories.  They have their own methods of discerning the truth of things there.”  He held up his hands to silence the newlyweds and continued.  “It is quite safe and painless I assure you.  It is a simple matter of taking memories, a copy of them if you like, and allows one to examine them— just as Severus provided me his to prove his loyalty; I suggest yours be used to assure your innocence.  Of course, they must be very selective.  Perhaps the memory of the Potters and yourself making Peter the secret keeper?”. 

“Yes, I agree.  Will she need to see me?” Sirius asked ignoring Lily’s sharp turn of head.

“I doubt it.  I will arrange it all, arrange a line of credit somehow as well.  What is the point of being an old man if you don’t know how to work the system?” He grinned.

“Now, I propose, given the approaching evening that you retire to your rest.  I will arrange for a tray of food to be sent to you, and Lily— ” He turned to take her hands “—please know that Harry is surrounded by the strongest protections and will be well cared for tonight.  I imagine you and your husband will require some privacy to complete the marriage rites.” He gave her a small smile.

“If you will excuse me, there is much to do.” And, with a simple, “May I?” lifted his wand and siphoned a grey mist from Sirius’s temples and deposited it in a small black glass vial with Lily flowers etched into it.  With a small ‘thank you’ and a turn of his heel, he Apparated from the room.

Lily and Sirius were left alone, for the first time as husband and wife.

 

 

 

 


	6. We Cannot Hear the Dead

The Room of Requirement had provided the Blacks with a comfortable suite to consummate their nuptials and seal their marriage bond completely.  Sirius marvelled at the similarities to Chateau Montbrun, a place he remembered fondly from his youth.  A large four-poster bed sat across from a mahogany fireplace which set the room in a soft glow.  Candles burned brightly in polished sconces and from the candelabra above them, while soft Turkish rugs lay underfoot upon the wooden floors.  Plates of food and a decanter of whisky had arrived promptly and sat on a small table in front of the fire.  A magical window looked over an expansive forest bathed in starlight, the Canis constellation shining brightest of all.

Lily simultaneously looked awed and terrified.  He noted the way she spun her wedding bands, gold and silver atop each other, knowing that this would be hardest for her, but damned if he wasn’t feeling physically ill at the thought of what they had to do.  She was beautiful standing before the fire, the golden light bathing her pale face like the dawn sun kissing new fallen snow.  He had always thought her pretty, but she was James’ wife and he had not dwelled on her as anything more than a friend; well, not since that short time in fourth year when he had indulged in some late-night gratifications thinking of her in tight jeans on a motorbike with him, wearing his jacket.

But now, before him she stood as _his_ wife.  His heartbroken, confused, torn wife.

“Lily,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry.  About all of this.  Of what you’ve had to do…”

“And what about what you’ve had to do?  Giving your future away for the… widow… of your friend —your brother— what can I say to thank you, to apologise to _you_?” She sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes.

“I told him I’d protect you, protect you both.  I promised him, Lily.  I promised him that I would keep you both safe, even if meant my life.  He knew what we were up against.” Sirius muttered, palming tears from his own eyes. “I couldn’t protect you all.  I couldn’t save _him.”_

_It should have been me._

“What’re we going to do, Pads? I feel so small… broken… it’s too much…” Lily sobbed, her bravado faltering. Sirius took her protectively in his arms. Taking comfort in each other, in the privacy of their bedchamber, they both sobbed; united in their heartbreak and powerlessness.


	7. I've Got Issues

With dry throats and wet faces, and with the last of their cries having been wrenched from their bodies, they pulled apart.  Sirius gently wiped his witch’s face with his pocket kerchief, the soft silk sliding over her ivory skin.  Her eyes, red rimmed from grief, shone like perfectly cut emeralds catching the sun. He looked down into them and kissed her forehead.

“We’ll figure it out, Lils.” He sniffed. “We were some of the brightest in our year, weren’t we? I’ll keep you both safe.  I promise you my body and magic, I’ll protect you both.  I swear it on the stars in the sky, you can trust me.  I won’t let you down,” he solemnly vowed. 

_Please, don’t let me fuck this up._

“I trust you,” she murmured looking up into his eyes, grey as a storming sea.  “I trust you with our lives.  Please trust me with yours.” And then she kissed him.

It was not a gentle kiss like the one shared at their ceremony, but one of desperation and longing.  Longing to be lost in the feeling of living, to forget — just for a moment — the guilt that threatened to break her, for not being there to save James, for surviving when he had died.  Over and over she pressed her lips to his, roughly and insistent, until Sirius pulled her from him, a look of confusion and regret in his dark eyes.

“Lily.  Slow down.”  He stroked the fallen hair from her face. 

_That was a first, asking for time._

“I know you want me, Sirius, I _felt_ it before.  I _know_ what desire feels like,” she pleaded with him, wild eyes searching his face. “Please.  Please.  Don’t judge me… I won’t judge you…” her voice thick with feeling. “I need to move from this in-between place… I need you… you need me too.”

Sirius stared at her, knowing that if he stepped into the void in front of him, he would never come back the same.

“I want to be worthy of you Lily, I want to be good for you.  But you _know_ me, I am a Black and in more than just name.  I’ve got _issues,_ I’m a bit fucked up…” he warned her, trying to will her to understand the reason for his reluctance.  Did she understand what he was trying to tell her?

_I’m not James._

“I don’t know how to be a husband, or a father… I don’t know if I will ever be good enough…”

_Not like James._

“Everything is so fucked up right now,” she said gently, “I’ve got fucking issues too, Pads — you’re not so special this time. So, give them all to me and I’ll give mine to you.  Ok?  We’ll bask in the glory knowing we are both imperfect and messed up and promise each other to hold the other one up when they fall.  Ok?  Ok?  I can’t do this without you.  We can’t crumble.  We have to be strong for Harry.  He needs a mother and a father, and all he has is us,” she finished firmly.

Sirius nodded almost imperceptibly.

“If we take our broken hearts, we can put them together to make a new one… maybe make us whole again.” She sniffed, placing her hand over his heart.  “I can feel the bond; the magic is already strong.  We just need to seal it,” she whispered as her hands started to unbutton his waist coat, taking charge.

_Where dwell the brave of heart, their daring and nerve._

Her fingers trembled. Sirius remained still, afraid to move.  The feelings he had had a moment ago were fast being replaced with a great need to touch her, to kiss and claim her. He felt the magic bonds pulsing between them; but he did not trust himself to be calm, not when the torrent of energy building inside him made him want to rip the clothes from her skin and sink her to the floor, kissing her, licking her, tasting her everywhere, searing his memory with her.  To worship her.

His heart hammered as she removed his jacket, sliding it over his arms and letting it fall to the floor.

 _One_.  

She looked up at him, green eyes shining, as she undid the buttons of his gunmetal grey shirt.  Peeling the shirt apart slowly, she slid her hands tentatively under the fabric, her palms resting on his skin. Her hands were cool to his warm skin, despite standing so close to fire, and he found himself relishing in the defined difference of their temperatures.   Sirius knew that she could feel his heart beating fast, and his breath coming in quick shallow puffs on her face gently moved her hair.

Could Lily feel the soft tremor vibrating through him? His skin pebbled around her hands.  Slowly, torturously, she slid her hands up to his shoulders, peeling his shirt around them and pushing down his forearms.  Could she feel him staring at her?

Her nerves bubbled inside her, torn between the guilt of feeling like she was cheating on James and the curling desire that was seeping through her core, winding its wispy tendrils down lower.   Sirius was a beautiful man — of course he knew it and he knew how to use it to his advantage — but here in front of her, he didn’t look like the cocky rooster that strutted into the hen house; here in front of her he was still, he was unguarded and exposed.

The shirt fell to the floor.

 _Two_. 

Lily looked over him, touching him slowly and softly.  His wrists.  Her fingers moved feather light up to his bicep and traced an inked rune there- _Algiz, protection._ She bent her head and kissed it, so lightly, that had Sirius not been watching her, he might have thought it was a breeze.  In response, fresh goose-bumps raced across his arms and chest.  She heard as  his breath caught, and he held it. 

She continued.

Tracing scars old and new, exploring his markings, moving her fingers over his clavicles and down through the sprinkling of dark hair on his chest.  His chest, like the rest of him had the well-defined tone of lean muscle of early manhood, of a man who knew how to use his body physically and to his best advantage.  Here in the fire light, shadows clung to the separations in his muscles, defining them, highlighting their pride.

The tendrils snaked lower and Lily felt her cheeks flush.

Sirius reached to her then, unable to keep his hands from her face, lifting her chin so their eyes met.  His eyes were no longer grey, they were black with desire and forced restraint.

“Like what you see, Evans?” His voice was soft and firm and did not betray the nerves that lay unseen beneath.  Sirius felt the awkwardness of the situation falling away.  He could not think of James now; that would be for later.  Right now, he felt the most singular desire for a woman that he had ever felt.  The desire that was making him physically uncomfortable.

Lily nodded, standing on tiptoes to brush his lips. “Yes”.

He could not stand being idle and passive any longer. “My turn,” he breathed into her mouth.  He smiled slightly when she nervously bit his lip.

Lily chided herself silently for her self-consciousness; she was a lioness, dammit.  Sirius was her husband now, who looked at her with the eyes of a starving man; she felt emboldened.  She pulled away from him and began to unfasten her cloak.

“No,” was all that he said.

Brushing her fingers away, Sirius untied the ribbons of her cloak letting it too, fall to the floor. 

 _Three_.

“Your dress is beautiful. You’re beautiful; so beautiful, Lily,” he whispered, taking note for the first time of the dress that she had become his wife in.  The dress was understated and simply elegant.  Cascading dove-grey silk gently caressed her curves and cascaded to the floor like a moonlit waterfall, her pale arms encased in a gossamer fine lace, puffed at the shoulders and cuffed at the wrists. Fine lace curved over her breasts, buttoned with pearl.

He moved around her then, slowly circling her, feeling the silk glide under his fingertips.  She remained still. He stopped behind her, gently lifting her auburn hair that glowed in the firelight.

He lifted the hair to his nose and breathed deeply.  “So long…” A teenage fantasy, now reality.  It smelled of night-blooming jasmine, patchouli, and black currant.  Again, he breathed her in. Gently he ran his fingers to the ends and then began to undress her hair from its restraints. Lily stood statue-like, eyes closed, hypnotised almost by the gently carding fingers; wanting to beg him to turn her around and use those fingers everywhere at once.  Now, it was her breath that was heavy.

“Sirius... please…” she begged breathlessly.

A low chuckle then.  “After making me wait like you did? Patience, wife.”

Betrayed by her impatience, her breath punctuated the word ‘wife’.

He unzipped her gown, slowly — so slowly — watching as the silk revealed her soft skin beneath.  Down he zipped, to the base of her spine, where the dress hung limply, caught only on her shoulders. Using the index fingers on both hands, he gently pushed it from her, and it fell like the sigh from her lips.

 _Four_.

Naked. Skyclad before him she stood; covered only by the fire’s radiance and goose-pimples.  His fingers traced a line from her shoulders, down her spine to  the curve of her perfectly round arse.

“Sweet fucking Circe.” Sirius reverently laid small kisses along her shoulders.

Whispering in her ear he said, “I want you, Lily Black.  Now and until I die.”

He spun her then.  Words failed him as he raked hungry eyes over her body.

Lily held her head high, taking pleasure in his reaction, breathing slowly to make sure he took good notice of her breasts rising and falling in time.

Crushing her lips under his, Sirius reacted to the display.  He kissed her thoroughly, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth, and grabbed her arse firmly when it found the warm softness of her.  Lily responded in kind; her hands threaded through his black hair, pulling him closer as if she could absorb him into her. Rough lips grazed her neck and she turned her head, giving him access, not as a sign of submission, but as permission.

He kissed and tasted her, slowly now —his mind shouting at him to slow down—  to savour the new taste that filled him with a need to have more, always more.

It was Lily that broke apart first. Confused, and slowly coming back to himself, he looked at her.

“You still have your pants on… husband.”

And then her hands were at his buckle… belt… pants down.

 _Five_.


End file.
